A spate of articles have appeared in recent times reporting on the reverse migration of large flocks of e-book readers back to print. Where there is no complete reverse migration (naturally), then a happy cohabitation has become common. Many of those who read books on a screen also read on the page. The new improved hybrid reader has arrived. And if trends are anything to go by, this hybridity is here to stay.
We interviewed a few people on this matter, and their views threw up a dazzling array of perspectives on user patterns and comfort frameworks that dictate reading habits.
Molly M, an academic in pursuit of a PhD on children’s writing at Reading
A lot of the academic books I use are ones I buy as e-books. That way I can carry them around easily. Even when I am staying over at my boyfriend’s, I have my library with me. If I suddenly get panicky about my dissertation – it happens a lot you know – I can quickly begin studying recommended books on my e-reader.
But as for books I read for pleasure, I mostly buy them from Used Books in town (first-hand books are too expensive for the pittance I make as a teaching assistant and e-books are not as cheap as in India anyway), and I cannot imagine anything else. The sheer randomness of the encounters in Used Books is what electrifies me. The same reason why, as kids, we loved College Street in Calcutta or Daryaganj in Delhi or MI Road in Bangalore.
You have to use a unique combination – instinct, the sudden intense love for a cover or a title, the serendipity of finding a book by an author you love – and let the process renew you as a human being. Really. I’m not being dramatic. (Okay, maybe only a little dramatic.)
Afterwards, I buy a cup of coffee and admire my purchases. That is the time when all these little stories come to life. I remember finding a book titled Bad Housekeeping by Sue Limb. A hilarious book about a writer of “bonkbusters” – her horrible housekeeping, bratty kids, boring husband and hot new flame, the Plumber. The inscription inside was: To a Great Housekeeper (When We Get One). Your Long-suffering Husband, X. I spent an hour thinking of this witty couple. Did they get divorced? What else explains a book so charmingly inscribed landing up at a Used Books?
Now, what e-book on earth can compete with this?
Lally Haldar, author and dancer
On Kindle, I buy books by authors I hate. I mean, I actually detest them. If I see their books sitting on my shelves, I get terribly annoyed and can’t focus on my work. Are you asking me, why do I buy books of authors I hate? Well, duh. Don’t I need to find out exactly how much worse they’ve got since their last one? How will I keep up with the critique at lit-fest after-parties?
Ananda Bose, associate professor of philosophy at a government university
A couple of years ago, I had a major phase of reading only on my e-reader. It was a gift to me from my young techno-savvy brother-in-law, and, after resisting for a while, I took to it, much like Schrodinger’s cat would have taken to objective collapse. The best thing was the mind-boggling range of books from all over the world to choose from.
Till then I had to resort to ordering books on philosophy through the university library or via registered suppliers, and it could take months for certain books to be delivered. With the e-reader, after my brother-in-law showed me how to pay with a debit card (I don’t own credit cards), it was a matter of seconds. However, after a couple of months, though, I began to feel a sense of deep loss.
There was something comforting about seeing the house fill up with books over time. After all, unlike the Kindle, where I would buy something to address a specific need or desire, acting on impulse – I need that book on Aesthetics right now – the beauty of buying books in general is in allowing one’s vision of the future play itself out on the walls of the house. (Or in the case of our small flat, heaped on the floor or lining every surface and window sill).
There are books that are meant to be read on hot summer afternoons after a mutton curry lunch, books to be read when estrangements are rife, books to be read when there is joy. There is your entire past too. The first book your first love had bought for you.
I admit there is a certain kind of vanity in this. But books on shelves offer a great talking point. Otherwise, if all your books are locked up in a Kindle somewhere, what will people who drop in talk about? The weekend shopping at the mall?
Chumki (Goldilocks) Mukherjee, business journalist
I like my books to be solid physical things. You might read some Freudian thing into it – I don’t know – but I just can’t bear the fact that every book ends up looking the same on an e-reader. I am sure that all manner of tech geeks are working to solve that matter; they will end up inserting videos and even smells perhaps in future books. But even so, I will resist.
I think the book is a pretty perfect structure as it is – with just the right amount of information. Not too much, not too little, just right. It’s meant to be recreated in your head. If I want an audio-visual version of a scene, with all the details specified, why would I be reading a book in the first place?
Aditya Jaiswal, co-founder of a start-up on making technology accessible to farmers
These days I find myself reading a lot of Hindi novels. While websites like dailyhunt have made it very easy for me to buy Hindi books instantly, it is very interesting for me to hunt out bookstores in the tier-two cities and small towns I visit on work and buy books there. It’s become a sort of a project for me. There are such interesting stories that emerge from these encounters.
As you know, I am a techie. At one point, I’d have got you the pdf through torrents of whatever book on earth you may have wanted,. But now I don’t do that anymore. Authors need to be respected for their work. And there’s no point liking their stuff on Facebook if you are not willing to contribute to their measly royalty as a sign of respect.
Shabnam Parveen, aerospace engineer
I do own a Kindle. I used to read on it a lot. The charms of Whispernet, are addictive as any user knows. Three gentle instructions from your fingertips and the transaction is complete. I would spend my entire fellowship on e-books.
But then two things happened: one, I began to forget about the books I’d bought on the Kindle. They’d just fall away from the mind. Physical books are always lying around, reminding you, chiding you, whatever. Speaking to you at least.
Second, recently at least two of my favourite bookstores announced they were shutting down, primarily because people were only ordering books online – after browsing in their stores – or reading e-books. I was devastated.
I realise that it is not merely about convenience. There are so many people’s livelihoods involved – and what is society without common spaces such as bookshops to act as nerve-centres for culture? I still buy a few books through e-tail, but I find myself buying more books from bookstores again.
The metaphor of the “commons” is not merely restricted to the bookshop as an idea either. The fact that each book can potentially be circulated multiplies its readership and connects people in a unique way. Lending and borrowing books is a therapeutic ritual in friendship. The e-Reader, however, makes your booklist a private affair. Just as you don’t share your sex toys, you don’t lend people your Kindle!
(Devapriya Roy is the author of The Vague Woman’s Handbook, The Weight Loss Club and, along with Saurav Jha, of The Heat and Dust Project: the Broke Couple’s Guide to Bharat, all of which are available as both physical and e-books. Last year she had recounted the story of her love affair with Kindle here. The people interviewed here may or may not be familiar to readers of her books.)
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We interviewed a few people on this matter, and their views threw up a dazzling array of perspectives on user patterns and comfort frameworks that dictate reading habits.
Molly M, an academic in pursuit of a PhD on children’s writing at Reading
A lot of the academic books I use are ones I buy as e-books. That way I can carry them around easily. Even when I am staying over at my boyfriend’s, I have my library with me. If I suddenly get panicky about my dissertation – it happens a lot you know – I can quickly begin studying recommended books on my e-reader.
But as for books I read for pleasure, I mostly buy them from Used Books in town (first-hand books are too expensive for the pittance I make as a teaching assistant and e-books are not as cheap as in India anyway), and I cannot imagine anything else. The sheer randomness of the encounters in Used Books is what electrifies me. The same reason why, as kids, we loved College Street in Calcutta or Daryaganj in Delhi or MI Road in Bangalore.
You have to use a unique combination – instinct, the sudden intense love for a cover or a title, the serendipity of finding a book by an author you love – and let the process renew you as a human being. Really. I’m not being dramatic. (Okay, maybe only a little dramatic.)
Afterwards, I buy a cup of coffee and admire my purchases. That is the time when all these little stories come to life. I remember finding a book titled Bad Housekeeping by Sue Limb. A hilarious book about a writer of “bonkbusters” – her horrible housekeeping, bratty kids, boring husband and hot new flame, the Plumber. The inscription inside was: To a Great Housekeeper (When We Get One). Your Long-suffering Husband, X. I spent an hour thinking of this witty couple. Did they get divorced? What else explains a book so charmingly inscribed landing up at a Used Books?
Now, what e-book on earth can compete with this?
Lally Haldar, author and dancer
On Kindle, I buy books by authors I hate. I mean, I actually detest them. If I see their books sitting on my shelves, I get terribly annoyed and can’t focus on my work. Are you asking me, why do I buy books of authors I hate? Well, duh. Don’t I need to find out exactly how much worse they’ve got since their last one? How will I keep up with the critique at lit-fest after-parties?
Ananda Bose, associate professor of philosophy at a government university
A couple of years ago, I had a major phase of reading only on my e-reader. It was a gift to me from my young techno-savvy brother-in-law, and, after resisting for a while, I took to it, much like Schrodinger’s cat would have taken to objective collapse. The best thing was the mind-boggling range of books from all over the world to choose from.
Till then I had to resort to ordering books on philosophy through the university library or via registered suppliers, and it could take months for certain books to be delivered. With the e-reader, after my brother-in-law showed me how to pay with a debit card (I don’t own credit cards), it was a matter of seconds. However, after a couple of months, though, I began to feel a sense of deep loss.
There was something comforting about seeing the house fill up with books over time. After all, unlike the Kindle, where I would buy something to address a specific need or desire, acting on impulse – I need that book on Aesthetics right now – the beauty of buying books in general is in allowing one’s vision of the future play itself out on the walls of the house. (Or in the case of our small flat, heaped on the floor or lining every surface and window sill).
There are books that are meant to be read on hot summer afternoons after a mutton curry lunch, books to be read when estrangements are rife, books to be read when there is joy. There is your entire past too. The first book your first love had bought for you.
I admit there is a certain kind of vanity in this. But books on shelves offer a great talking point. Otherwise, if all your books are locked up in a Kindle somewhere, what will people who drop in talk about? The weekend shopping at the mall?
Chumki (Goldilocks) Mukherjee, business journalist
I like my books to be solid physical things. You might read some Freudian thing into it – I don’t know – but I just can’t bear the fact that every book ends up looking the same on an e-reader. I am sure that all manner of tech geeks are working to solve that matter; they will end up inserting videos and even smells perhaps in future books. But even so, I will resist.
I think the book is a pretty perfect structure as it is – with just the right amount of information. Not too much, not too little, just right. It’s meant to be recreated in your head. If I want an audio-visual version of a scene, with all the details specified, why would I be reading a book in the first place?
Aditya Jaiswal, co-founder of a start-up on making technology accessible to farmers
These days I find myself reading a lot of Hindi novels. While websites like dailyhunt have made it very easy for me to buy Hindi books instantly, it is very interesting for me to hunt out bookstores in the tier-two cities and small towns I visit on work and buy books there. It’s become a sort of a project for me. There are such interesting stories that emerge from these encounters.
As you know, I am a techie. At one point, I’d have got you the pdf through torrents of whatever book on earth you may have wanted,. But now I don’t do that anymore. Authors need to be respected for their work. And there’s no point liking their stuff on Facebook if you are not willing to contribute to their measly royalty as a sign of respect.
Shabnam Parveen, aerospace engineer
I do own a Kindle. I used to read on it a lot. The charms of Whispernet, are addictive as any user knows. Three gentle instructions from your fingertips and the transaction is complete. I would spend my entire fellowship on e-books.
But then two things happened: one, I began to forget about the books I’d bought on the Kindle. They’d just fall away from the mind. Physical books are always lying around, reminding you, chiding you, whatever. Speaking to you at least.
Second, recently at least two of my favourite bookstores announced they were shutting down, primarily because people were only ordering books online – after browsing in their stores – or reading e-books. I was devastated.
I realise that it is not merely about convenience. There are so many people’s livelihoods involved – and what is society without common spaces such as bookshops to act as nerve-centres for culture? I still buy a few books through e-tail, but I find myself buying more books from bookstores again.
The metaphor of the “commons” is not merely restricted to the bookshop as an idea either. The fact that each book can potentially be circulated multiplies its readership and connects people in a unique way. Lending and borrowing books is a therapeutic ritual in friendship. The e-Reader, however, makes your booklist a private affair. Just as you don’t share your sex toys, you don’t lend people your Kindle!
(Devapriya Roy is the author of The Vague Woman’s Handbook, The Weight Loss Club and, along with Saurav Jha, of The Heat and Dust Project: the Broke Couple’s Guide to Bharat, all of which are available as both physical and e-books. Last year she had recounted the story of her love affair with Kindle here. The people interviewed here may or may not be familiar to readers of her books.)